Behind the Curtain
by Lady Riss
Summary: Missing scenes from "Payback."
1. That Night

A/N: So, I'm behind on _Army Wives_ and seem to be stuck on the early seasons. I did watch 'Fatal Reaction' and I'm just gonna say it: What the hell? Why does _Lifetime_ keep doing that? They place their characters in these situations only to just NOT talk about it. I mean, shit. The episode after 'Fatal Reaction' did Denise and Claudia Joy even talk except that one moment with the Kelli Williams character? They were in that situation together and NOTHING.

Okay. Rant over.

Anyway, these will be missing scenes from Season Two's "Payback." They did the same thing. Showed sexual violence but then rushed through the healing process. I'm sure Claudia Joy felt better after Paulo's visa was promised to be revoked, but still.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Claudia Joy didn't plan on telling anyone, honestly. She'd called the MP's on pure instinct, the remnants of a belief in justice still lingering in her bones from Law School. Justice, she'd been told, always prevailed; she was blind and courageous and fought for those in need.

Claudia Joy didn't believe in Justice anymore though.

Not when she realized Paulo's diplomatic immunity would promise him freedom and a great punch line for when he returned home. He claimed Maria would do worse, but Claudia Joy doubted she'd ever find out. Paulo was connected and nothing would happen.

And that was Justice.

But after the MP's took her statement, after they left her house and after she cleaned up the entire mess—Claudia Joy vowed to keep this incident a secret. Michael wanted to tell Emmalin, but Claudia Joy was able to convince him otherwise. "She's had enough this year, there's no need to tell her about this."

"Claudia Joy…"

Michael's tone was strong and Claudia Joy barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Michael, it's over. Stop bringing it up, stop talking about it and just let it be."

"I can't, Claudia Joy."

"If I can, you can."

And that was it. The two went to bed, but neither could sleep. Claudia Joy's stomach was in knots, scenarios of what could have been kept playing in her head and the places his hands had been were aflame on her skin. Her throat, had he strangled her? No. She'd remember that more clearly, surely.

Or would she?

God. The entire thing was a blur. A mess of limbs and glass and his breath—hot and scorching with liquor.

"Claudia Joy?" Michael whispered in the night, his voice bringing Claudia Joy back to reality. She couldn't respond though. Her throat was tight and she knew her voice would crack if she even attempted to speak. Michael didn't take her silence. He couldn't. His own heart was breaking far too much for him tolerate his wife's quiet whimpers as she attempted to breath softly. "Claudia Joy, just talk to me," Michael tried again, reaching a hand over to touch her shoulder.

The touch wasn't expected and Claudia Joy was out of the bed and on her feet before she realized it. "I'm just going to take a shower."

"Claudia Joy," Michael called out after her, his eyes shining, "wait."

"Just go to bed, Michael."

Claudia Joy had spent awhile in the shower. She'd examined herself first, amazed that what he'd done didn't leave a single mark. "I'm not hurt," she'd told Michael—and her body proved it. And if her body didn't have a single bruise, then it was true. Right?

When she began crying she did her best to cover her mouth, to muffle the sound, and it must have worked. She didn't hear anything echo in the bathroom, nor did Michael come in there. Claudia Joy was either quiet enough or took long enough in the shower because by the time she finally reentered her bedroom, skin red from the water and steam rolling from the door, Michael was asleep.

And that's exactly what Claudia Joy wanted. She didn't want to talk to him about this again, she didn't want to talk to anyone about this again.

Which is why she nearly closed the door on Denise when she came over the next day.

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A/N: Thoughts?


	2. Telling Denise

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Denise had gone over to Claudia Joy's to talk about Frank. She needed Claudia Joy; for her support and kindness and even approval. Because Claudia Joy could calm Denise down, she was able to talk her down from any ledge and even helped Denise accept any and every horrible thing.

And this relief she felt at Frank's departure… this was something Old Denise would consider very bad.

"Denise!" Claudia Joy had greeted, her face nearly void of makeup while a loose pony held her hair up. The denim and plaid shirt added to Claudia Joy's appearance and Denise knew something was wrong. Not to mention, the surprise in Claudia Joy's face mixed with the slightest hint of fear forced Denise to take a step back.

"Claudia Joy, I was wondering if you had a minute to talk," she peered inside the house briefly before Claudia Joy blocked the view and Denise felt her face grow hot, "I'm sorry, are you busy with Paulo?"

Claudia Joy's face had gone deadpan and she crossed her arms, "No. You can come in."

Denise stepped inside and Claudia Joy led the way to the kitchen. The place looked nearly spotless, far beyond the usual perfection Claudia Joy kept her house in. The floors were recently mopped, the counters wiped down and Denise realized Claudia Joy was in the middle of doing her cabinets.

"Spring cleaning?" Denise asked with a light laugh.

"You know me," Claudia Joy responded with a shrug.

"Where's Paulo today? More negotiating? Or does he finally get to see the sights?" Denise had meant the question to be a joke. She'd been curious about him, Claudia Joy pointing out his flirtatious tendencies had her wondering if perhaps the diplomat was enjoying a few choice sights with some of the soldiers.

But the joke didn't give way to a punch line, let alone a laugh. Instead Denise watched as Claudia Joy's entire body stiffened and her hand, which had been reaching for a dish, clenched into a fist. "Paulo's been arrested."

Arrested wasn't the right word, diplomats weren't prosecuted and Claudia Joy knew that much. As for the military terms for what was happening to bastards like him, where they went and what happened after—Claudia Joy just could not remember.

"What?" Denise's question pulled Claudia Joy back, her surprise evident.

"I'm sorry," Claudia Joy said on reflex, turning so her body faced Denise while she kept her eyes locked on a table, "I mean the MP's took him. He's in a holding cell." Too much. Too much information, too much truth. Claudia Joy hadn't wanted to tell anyone, and now here she was mere moments—mere words—away from telling Denise everything.

The push, the broken vase, the torn skirt, the scream…

"For what? What happened?" Denise's tone had been that of curiosity at first, before she saw Claudia Joy slowly shrink into herself, backing away from Denise before her body hit the counter and she was forced to once again leave her thoughts. And Denise saw all this. "Claudia Joy, what happened?"

The concern was evident in her voice and that tone was the very one that Claudia Joy didn't want to hear. An anger boiled inside her, a less than gentle rage that Claudia Joy had to swallow down before she could actually respond. "Nothing, it was nothing."

"Claudia Joy," Denise said exasperated, "'nothing' doesn't lead to the MP's taking you away! When were they even here?"

"Yesterday afternoon and it was just a minor incident, I promise."

The vague answers were becoming harder and harder for Denise to accept, as was watching Claudia Joy. "Claudia Joy, you're scaring me."

Guilt. A strange emotion that Claudia Joy had been reeling in since Paulo put his hands on her. Guilt for putting herself in that situation, guilt for putting Michael in his position and guilt for snapping at poor Emmalin this morning now turned to guilt for not being honest with Denise. She knew, technically, Denise did not have a right to know—this was her body and what happened was hers—but Denise was looking to her with those eyes, begging her to let her in, and Claudia Joy felt _guilty_ that she didn't want to.

"Denise…" she said slowly, shaking her head, "I don't really want to talk about it anymore."

Denise scanned her friend's face, looking for a way to get the woman to let down some wall. "Claudia Joy…"

Claudia Joy let out a groan and rolled her head, "Don't you 'Claudia Joy' me too, Michael's been doing it all day." She took a deep breath, hating herself slightly for giving in to the nearly scolding tone that Denise used on her, "Paulo…" Claudia Joy's breath caught and she clenched her jaw a moment before regaining composure, "Paulo attacked me yesterday—"

"_What_?"

"—nothing happened, the room got a little messy but that was it."

"Claudia Joy, what do you mean attacked?" Denise was frantic, her mind racing and searching for bruises or any clue as to assume in which way this supposed friend of Claudia Joy's had hurt her.

"He tried to rape me, Denise." The words were out of Claudia Joy's mouth before she could stop them. They were coherent, strong and completely confident. The quiver that was rattling her core kept quiet enough that Claudia Joy nearly fooled herself. "But I stopped him."

There was a long pause and Claudia Joy could feel the blood pounding in her head as anxiety and shame and every emotion she could harbor came crashing down on her, awaiting her friend's response.

"Why didn't you call me as soon as it happened?"

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A/N: And the scene continues on.


	3. Telling the Tribe

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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"Where's Claudia Joy, did anyone call her?" Pamela asked quietly, Roland pacing before the wives.

"I sent her the same text I sent you, I'm sure she'll be here soon," Roland told the red head, his mind too focused on his wife to really notice the absence of Claudia Joy. Her presence was calming though... her ability to assure anyone of anything was more than impressive and desperately missed now that he thought of it. "I'm sure he'll be here soon," he repeated.

Denise looked at the others, not quite sure if it was her place to tell them what had happened. Claudia Joy barely wanted to tell Denise. Yet… Joan was in surgery—fighting for her life—and on normal circumstances Claudia Joy would have been there-she'd even managed to make it to Betty's for Roxy-and her friends would know something was wrong if she wasn't in the hospital to support her Goddaughter's mother. "Guys, I don't know if Claudia Joy will be coming…"

Three heads turned to her quizzically.

"Is something wrong?" Roxy's voice was the first to break the silence.

"Yeah, is she okay?" Pamela followed.

Denise's eyes turned to Roland, but the new father looked as if he was completely drained and Denise had a feeling even Roland's constantly analytical mind couldn't process the speech to ask for information on more turmoil.

"Claudia Joy's fine," Denise reassured, though she wasn't sure 'fine' was the correct word to use, "There was an incident yesterday and I wouldn't be surprised if she's still…" Denise trailed off. Still what? Reeling? Healing? Grieving? Denying? "She just may need a day or two."

"Jesus, what happened?" Roxy asked, sitting up straight.

Three sets of eyes on her, all waiting for an explanation as to why their friend—the most compassionate and empathetic of them all—wasn't going to be there for one of their own. "Well," Denise began slowly, swallowing hard as she tried to figure out a sufficient phrase. "Claudia Joy isn't…" she couldn't bring herself to say 'hurt,' as Claudia Joy had said, because it wasn't true. She _was_ hurt, badly—even if there was no physical evidence of it.

"Spit it out, Denise, you're freaking us out," Pamela demanded.

"Paulo attacked her."

"What?" Roland asked, taking a step forward. The two other women were just as surprised.

"He…" Denise stumbled slightly, "He tried to force himself on her but she stopped it."

"Oh my God!" Roxy proclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth.

The group grew quiet and Roland began to pace again—his mind now racing with thoughts of Joan, his daughter and Claudia Joy. Of all the people, of all the things, and of all the timing, why now? Why did some dirt bag have to put his hands on her?

His mind was too full—too much tragedy. Shit, not to mention his other friends. Pamela's stalker and Trevor's growing (declining?) addiction. Why the hell couldn't life just give him and his family and friends a break?

"Roland, you should sit down. You'll wear yourself out." Roxy's voice quietly suggested.

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A/N: And scene (again!)


	4. To the Hospital

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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"Mom, calm down!" Emmalin yelled from the doorway, "I just wanted to go out with a friend but forget it! I'll just stay locked up in my room forever!" She stomped away before Claudia Joy could process the entire sentence.

Instead of trailing after her daughter, Claudia Joy stood in the kitchen for all of two seconds before her stomach refused to hold down whatever Michael had made her eat for lunch and she threw up in the kitchen sink.

The fight had escalated so quickly that Claudia Joy had no time to prep her answers, no time to calm her emotions or do anything except react. And that's exactly what she'd done: react. Emmalin had come home, asking questions about Paulo again and Grandma's vase and when Claudia Joy refused to give any actual answer she switched her questioning over to going out. By that point, images of Paulo swimming in Claudia Joy's mind, she didn't want her daughter anywhere out of the house. The longer Emmalin was locked up in the house, the better.

No harm would come to her then right?

"Wrong," Claudia Joy said before throwing up again. Harm had come to Claudia Joy in her own home, and by a friend nonetheless. A man she trusted and thought kindly enough of that she opened her home up to him. And how had he shown gratitude?

More vomit.

The noise must have reached Emmalin, even in all her anger and one flight above, because her teenage daughter came down the stairs slowly, "Mom?"

Claudia Joy closed her eyes, hoping to stop the tears and the queasiness. She couldn't look like this, not in front of Emmalin. She'd already grieved too much for Amanda in front of her—to see this now would be too much. "I'm fine," Claudia Joy responded before turning on the sink. She rinsed out her mouth first, swishing the water and praying for the foul taste of bile to leave her, before rinsing out the sink and splashing cold water on her face.

"Mom…"

"I'm fine, Emmaline. Go back to your room." Claudia Joy could see the hurt on Emmalin's face instantly. The poor girl had only been worried about her and now Claudia Joy was being cold and rude. Emmalin didn't deserve that. "Sweetheart, I—"

"Whatever," was Emmalin's response before she headed back upstairs and slammed the door behind her.

Claudia Joy ran a hand through her hair and tried to calm herself down. She looked to the kitchen in hopes of finding a distraction—but the house was spotless. Her phone. Surely someone had texted her, called her, asked her to do something.

And there it was: _Joan's back in surgery._ And that was sent nearly thirty minutes ago now.

Claudia Joy took a breath and headed upstairs. She had to change, but she also wanted Emmalin out of this house. Until that bastard was out of the country, Emmalin was not to be left alone. "Em, honey…" she called softly through the door.

"Go away!"

Claudia Joy clenched her jaw before regaining composure, "Joan's back in surgery and I'm heading to the hospital—I can drop you off at Jamie's if you want."

Silence. A few heartbeats and finally the door opened. "That'd be great."

Claudia Joy changed and drove Emmalin to her friend's. The car ride was quiet, but Claudia Joy selfishly accepted this as opposed to more questions. When she dropped her daughter off the goodbye was silent, but just as Emmalin was about to close the door she spoke. "I hope Colonel Burton is okay."

Claudia Joy offered a small smile, "Me too."

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A/N: And those are the only scenes I have left in mind. Anyone want to see anything else? Let me know!


	5. And Everyone Knows

A/N: That moment when you realize there are more unwritten and unshown scenes than you realized. There.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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They knew.

Claudia Joy could see it in their faces, could feel it as Roland scanned her delicately and embraced her. She could feel Denise ignoring eye contact while Roxy's well intentioned, but often times less than helpful, stare continued to bore into Claudia Joy while Roxy gained the courage to say whatever it was that she wanted to say.

Claudia Joy wanted to scream. These women were her friends and now, in a time when she was all but falling apart (as was everyone else it seemed) no one was going to even look at her? Claudia Joy had been there for Pamela with the twins, for Denise during her Getty fiasco and even for Roxy when she opened that bar. And no one could even look her in the eye?

Rage began to flare—inappropriate, out of place, and foreign—inside of her. Sitting across from her friends she felt alone and isolated, dirty. It was irrational, Claudia Joy knew it, but she had never felt like such a pariah in her life.

"Hey, why don't you show Claudia Joy the flyer?" Pamela's voice broke the long silence and Claudia Joy realized even Roxy had stopped her staring.

"Oh, right," Denise answered back, as if some bright idea just came to her. She pulled out a piece of paper, "I am going to rent this house for a week." Her voice felt too high, too forced.

"Really?" How easily Claudia Joy fell into the casualness of conversation. "That looks like Heaven," Claudia Joy answered, because it really did. Secluded. Off base. No eyes, no concerns, no Paulo.

"Okay, I gotta go or I'm gonna be late for the radio show," Pamela spoke again, zipping her purse.

Claudia Joy's heart fluttered, her hand reached for her necklace—a nervous habit since she was young, "You're still doing that? With that crazy man out there?" Claudia Joy could barely leave her house and her assailant was in a jail cell. Pamela's? Her stalker was still lurking in the street, waiting and watching… The thought made Claudia Joy sick.

"Absolutely," Pamela answered, so determined and confident, "I won't let him change how I do things, it just gives him power. Besides, the radio station is swarming with soldiers, I'll be fine."

Claudia Joy's jaw clenched. Power.

She'd been in Law School and somehow she had forgotten that element of sexual assault; the thrill and rush of overpowering someone. _Yeah, fight me. I like it. _Claudia Joy swallowed, pushing down the bile and nervousness of her stomach as she scanned the hospital room. Roland was speaking with the doctor, but his body language didn't look entirely relaxed.

Snippets of the conversation filled Claudia Joy's ears and she took after Denise's reactions and began to wring her hands—"Statewide shortage."

Denise turned to her briefly and Claudia Joy didn't know what to do. That wasn't something she could fix, there was no rank to be pulled when medical supplies and blood were short. Claudia Joy's hands were tied with that scenario, but when she glanced over to Roxy she saw something. The blonde's face was ablaze and quicker than Claudia Joy could stand, Roxy was out of the hospital.

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A/N: Question… how's my characterization?


	6. Looking for Normal

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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As selfish as it sounded, the confrontation between Roland and Trevor was something Claudia Joy needed. She needed something else to focus on—something she could help. Joan was in surgery and in need of blood, Claudia Joy couldn't help with that. She couldn't help Pamela with her stalker either and Denise's home situation was something that Claudia Joy had already tried to help—the hotel room idea really was stupid.

But a sore Roxy and a hurting Trevor? Claudia Joy could listen, she could talk and maybe even delay the ceremony.

Claudia Joy could help. Like she used to.

When Roxy came to waiting room, Roland had disappeared somewhere with Denise just moments before, she sat down next to Claudia Joy but remained silent. Claudia Joy snuck a glance at Trevor, the kid's eyes were completely sunken and a thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin. He looked ill.

"He doesn't look too good, Roxy." It was an opener, nothing too pushy or too delicate. If Roxy wanted to talk about this, which Claudia Joy prayed she did, the simple sentence would be enough fuel to fire whatever it was that Roxy was keeping locked inside her.

"I know, I'm afraid for that Silver Star Ceremony," even in her fear Roxy's voice was rationally calm. Claudia Joy wanted to know how she did it, but quickly reminded herself that this was not Roxy's first time dealing with addiction—even if this time was something completely different than her mother.

"I can talk to Michael, we can post pone it," Claudia Joy suggested, finally feeling like her old self. Help in whatever way she can. Because Claudia Joy could help. She had connections, she could pull strings.

"No, he'd die if Michael knew," Roxy declined, her tone settled on the matter.

"I'll just say he's sick," Claudia Joy tried to reason. _Please, let me help. Let me be useful,_ she quietly begged as well.

"Well, he is sick," Roxy countered, unable to see Claudia Joy's plea, "because he stopped taking those damn pills." Roxy frowned slightly, "He just needs to work through it himself then he'll be fine. He needs to be at that ceremony."

Claudia Joy nodded, she understood that. Needing to prove yourself.

"She's out of surgery. They fixed the tear in her uterus, she's out of the woods," Roland announced, Denise next to him with her own silly grin.

While Claudia Joy felt happiness for the mother of her Godchild, she also felt an odd sense of surprise. Good news, finally. How could it be that everyone, and Claudia Joy now officially realized, everyone's life was falling apart? At the same time… fate declared war on her and her friends this week and she couldn't comprehend how that was possible.

And now this? A major victory against, but was this battle enough to eventually win the war? Claudia Joy knew her fair amount of strategies due to Michael, but those were with men… What was one supposed to do when Chance and Fate suddenly became your enemy?

Roland was dismissing them suddenly and Claudia Joy smiled, her instincts kicking in when she realized his speech was dwindling to a close. "Where else would we be?"

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A/N: Don't fret, because these chapters have been so short... I'm just posting the next one right now as well! (Ha, I type as if folks are reading).


	7. Talk of Guns

A/N: This one is sort of long. Enjoy? Or accept my apology.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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The ever dutiful hostess that was Claudia Joy, apparently even in times of distress, invited her friends back to her house after the hospital. She had enough yard for the kids and comfortable enough chairs that hardly got any use. Denise and Roxy looked weary at her suggestion—either afraid to intrude on Claudia Joy or they were squeamish over what had happened there. "Guys, it's fine."

The tension didn't quite lift at Claudia Joy's words, but Denise conceded with a nod and a soft smile, "Sure." Roxy followed quickly after.

Claudia Joy prepared some drink in the kitchen and ignored the memory of Paulo's chopping lesson. Was every room now tainted by his memory?

She put the drink in a pitcher and brought it, TJ and Fin running around with Pamela's two children now—the redhead must have arrived while she was in the house.

"Creep called the station," Pamela announced, her eyes so focused on her children she didn't even bother to face the other women, "threatened my kids." A quiet horror filled the silence and Pamela sighed, "The call wasn't long enough to trace either. Fu—stupid technology."

"You know you have a right to be angry," Denise chimed in. Claudia Joy whirled her head to her longtime friend, confused by her sudden understanding in psychology—or maybe it was simple human empathy. "You too," Denise said, her head jutting towards Claudia Joy.

Claudia Joy felt her cheeks grow hot, shame and embarrassment creeping into her bones. She didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to bring any attention back to that—especially with Emmalin so close in the house.

"Yeah," Pamela voiced, "well, I'm well beyond that." She sighed as the kids ran around the house, their voices loud enough for her to still hear even if she couldn't see.

"Claudia Joy…?" it was Roxy, her voice was quiet and softer than Claudia Joy had ever heard it. She looked nearly mouse-ish as she wrapped her arms around herself, "What happened?"

Denise looked down, she knew only bits and pieces herself, and Pamela's body tensed. While Claudia Joy wanted to know why Roxy was asking—what did it matter to her what happened?—she also realized how desperately she did want to talk about it. She'd wanted to talk to Michael, but he looked so hurt every time he just _looked_ at her.

As for her friends… How could she burden them when they all had their own tragedy weighing down so heavily on them?

"Claudia Joy?" Denise asked softly, watching as her friend slipped into her own mind.

"I'm sorry," Claudia Joy automatically responded, giving Denise a strange case of déjà vu from the kitchen. Claudia Joy crossed her arms and leaned forward, attempting to make herself as small as possible while maintaining the illusion of composure. "Paulo had wanted to celebrate, because his president approved the lease," Claudia Joy frowned slightly, "I… it was too early and I had just gotten back—so I told him Joan was in the hospital." Claudia Joy creased her brow and licked her lips, her heart now racing as she thought of fully disclosing this to someone other than the MP.

"He tried to comfort me, or hug me… whatever. It," Claudia Joy bit her lip again, her eyes focused on some distant flower because there was no way she could look any of these girls in the face, "It turned into a lot more and I told him to stop and I slapped him." Claudia Joy had been shaking her head at the memory and then shrugged to conclude the statement.

A silence washed over them and Claudia Joy felt relief wash through her friends—perhaps she should leave the story at that. Claim an inappropriate kiss occurred and all was ended with a slap, let them worry about something else.

Yet…

"He liked that." She turned to Roxy, Claudia Joy's eyes unable to move away once locked, "he pushed me down and wouldn't get off—until I hit him with a bottle."

"A bottle?"

Claudia Joy nodded, "It must have rolled over after I kicked the table."

Quietness again. Thoughts, tangled and miserable, spun in Claudia Joy's head. She must have kicked hard because it was a miracle that bottle reached her hand, a miracle that her hand reached it. "I keep asking myself, 'Was it my fault did I do something to set him off?' Then I just get angry because I didn't." And there it was. A truth that Claudia Joy didn't want to admit. Because it was about power and dominance and pain—yet she still felt guilty. She still worried her dress was too short, her distance to him too close, her objections to his closeness at dinner not loud enough.

"Well, he's a predator. It's not like they need encouragement," Pamela stated obviously, her tone even and angry as she stomped over to sit next to Claudia Joy. It was strange, but the former cop's presence—even with her own life becoming more and more dangerous—felt calming.

"Now tell me," Claudia Joy found herself saying, more dark secrets escaping in the afternoon that she ever thought she'd admit, "have I been so consumed with grief since Amanda died that I've just had my head in the sand? Maybe there were warning signs and I just didn't see them." Sadden glances passed between the other women and Claudia Joy sighed, "I just feel very vulnerable." The last truth, the one she hated admitting even to herself now spoken out loud.

Claudia Joy didn't do vulnerable, she didn't handle being broken very well. Amanda's death had nearly killed her, but that was pure sorrow—loss. Amanda had been ripped from her, but the death of the bomber calculated some odd justice—not repercussion—but justice enough and Claudia Joy was never left feeling vulnerable; not even when she embarrassed poor Emmalin in the PX.

"We're all vulnerable," Denise's soft voice said, "even when we see warning signs we hardly ever act on them. We're afraid of being paranoid."

Pamela had her own arms wrapped around her, "Well right now I'm embracing paranoid."

"If I hadn't reached that bottle I could not have defended myself," Claudia Joy said, her arms mindlessly scratching as a horrifying scenario played through her mind.

"Well it happened to me once back home," Roxy chimed. Claudia Joy's ears perked, that's why she wanted to know. "Man, thank God he was drunk 'cuz that's the only way I got out of there, and I started kickboxing the next day." Roxy ended her story lightly, smiling broadly and Claudia Joy found herself smiling back—proud of Roxy's strength (and still slightly embarrassed by her own weakness).

"Well I know how to defend myself and it doesn't always help," Pamela interjected angrily, "that's why I got a gun."

"Woah," Roxy breathed, her face void of her careless smile, "Back that bus up: you got a gun?"

"Yeah I used to carry one for a living, right, remember?" Pamela's voice was harsh and stiff until a sigh escaped her lips and she rolled her eyes, "Don't worry it's not like I have it with me. I have to wait for a concealed weapons permit."

"Yeah, but now you have children," Denise said quietly, but firmly. Denise didn't like guns, Claudia Joy knew that. Frank made her practice, but she hated them—nearly as much as Claudia Joy did in fact.

"Yeah, and they're in danger so I'm doing everything I can to protect them," more understandable anger and defensiveness. Pamela probably felt trapped in a bubble filled with Chesire Cats and only a few safe friends, "don't worry it's in a lockbox."

Claudia Joy hated guns, loathed them really. It was odd, her husband being a soldier, but the idea of a bulky object whose only purpose was to kill another human did not sit well with Claudia Joy, "I don't know if I could have a gun in the house, but—"

And Pamela was up, standing and frantic—the children's cries no long within ear shot. Panic certainly seized Pamela, but Claudia Joy herself felt the familiar plunge of stomach of a mother losing her child. Pamela stormed through the yard, calling for Katie and Lucas while Roxy followed quickly behind.

Denise and Claudia Joy followed as well, but at a farther drawn distance and halted altogether when they realized the kids were merely petting a dog. Pamela was none to thrilled and grabbed the children, taking them away and (Claudia Joy assumed) back to their house.

In the haze of lost children and relief upon their findings, then added the franticness of Pamela and her quick departure, Claudia Joy's words on guns were lost. –_but, I had never wanted to shoot someone more in my life._

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A/N: Reviews are appreciated!


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